Free Dying for a Date by Cindy Sample Page B

to waste good chardonnay. I also hated to waste cheap chardonnay. I took one quick sip then put the glass down by the sink.
    I locked my front door and we walked out to Jeremy's navy Mercedes. He politely helped me in without making any anatomical detours. I settled into the passenger seat admiring the gleaming burled walnut paneling and array of controls on the dashboard. “Nice car."
    "Your cars are the clothing you drive in.” He shot me a sideways glance. If that were true, I was currently riding in a tux. But what did my pastel hybrid say about me?
    It was a short drive to the restaurant. Jeremy handed the keys to the valet and we strolled down the slate pathway to the entrance of the River Inn. Between the vaulted ceilings, pine paneled walls, and enormous green plants interspersed throughout the restaurant, it was like entering a primeval forest. The hostess greeted us warmly and we followed her to a romantic corner booth overlooking the American River.
    Jeremy immediately started perusing the wine list while I admired the tumultuous river crashing over the rocks below the restaurant. When the waiter appeared, my date lifted his gray curls from the menu. “We'll have a bottle of the 1976 Dom Perignon."
    The waiter looked impressed, nodding his head in approval. “Excellent choice, sir. I'll be back shortly."
    I was also impressed and displayed my approval by emitting a tiny burp. Uh, oh. Maybe I shouldn't have drunk that chardonnay on an empty stomach. Our waiter arrived with a silver ice bucket, two crystal flutes and the two hundred dollar bottle of champagne. A muffled pop and—voila, I was holding a fifty-dollar glass of booze.
    The bus boy delivered a basket loaded with some garlicky smelling focaccia bread. Jeremy was still engrossed in reviewing the wine list so I withdrew two pieces and slathered on some butter. The doctor was either trying to make a major impression on me or he was a wine connoisseur bar none. I sipped the champagne and munched on the excellent refined carbs while gazing at the churning river below.
    My date finally looked up from the two-inch thick gold embossed wine list. “Laurel, do you have any preferences for reds?"
    My only preference was that the wine didn't taste like grape juice. How could I convince him I was a connoisseur as well? “I prefer red wines from the Napa Valley.” That should narrow it down to a couple hundred choices.
    I sipped the champagne while Jeremy examined the list. He smiled, finally selecting a 2006 Heitz Cabernet Sauvignon. Undoubtedly a better choice than the $1.99 bottle I served earlier. The waiter stood, pen in hand, primed for our orders.
    I held the menu at arm's length then brought it closer, but it was still out of focus. Why was it that the fancier the restaurant, the smaller the font size. When in doubt, stick with the age-old standards. “I'll have the Caesar salad to start and the prime rib, petite cut."
    Jeremy was ready with his order. “Spinach salad with nonfat Italian dressing on the side, and the sauteed sea bass, no sauce.” He handed his menu to the waiter.
    "You have such control over your diet,” I said in admiration.
    "Everything in moderation.” He traced his index finger around the rim of his crystal champagne flute. “It's an easy motto to follow. But there are those who just can't help their addictive personalities."
    I looked down at the crumbs littering my bread plate. Time to turn the conversation in a different direction before another lecture on my diet was forthcoming. “What do you like to do for fun?"
    His smile lit up his face and his shoulders relaxed for the first time this evening. “I enjoy going up to Lake Tahoe. I can never get enough of its incredible beauty. Last summer I hiked most of the Tahoe Rim Trail. In fact I'm thinking of buying a vacation home on the south shore."
    My mother would so love to get her hands on Jeremy. A doctor and a multiple homeowner.
    "Your practice must be doing well."
    His